December 2nd.
Mo Yun got up to prepare for breakfast. As he entered the dining hall, he heard a clear female voice from outside the door call out, "Is anyone there? This maid has come on behalf of Young Miss to return the flute!"
Simon picked up his porridge bowl and glanced at him, "Go on, why are you standing there?"
The maids standing on both sides of the dining hall stole glances at the young swordsman.
Mo Yun looked puzzled, "Standing where? Are you talking about the person outside? I don't know her."
"Oh, come on. Of course, you don't know her, but her Young Miss made you cry yesterday!"
The maids' gazes became meaningful.
"I didn't! I didn't! Don't talk nonsense!"
Mo Yun's face turned beet red as he rushed out the door.
Outside Junxian Residence, a girl in a green dress stood. Seeing Mo Yun in a white robe, her eyes lit up, and she waved to him, "Young Master, Young Miss asked me to return the flute."
Mo Yun looked like he wanted to speak but couldn't. He had so, so many questions, but until he took back the flute and the girl said goodbye and left, not a single word escaped him. Not only did he fail to ask his questions, but he was also very rude.
For a moment, just for that one moment, a moment when timing was chaotic, perhaps it was the rouge on the girl's full lips that reddened his vision, perhaps it was the dazzling glow of the jeweled hairpin behind her temple that captivated his mind, or perhaps it was the low hum of the air passing through the flute holes as it moved through the air…
Just like that, for no reason, Mo Yun felt like a complete and utter failure, a piece of trash discarded into the marginal refuse heap of society and life.
He stood blankly outside the door, recalling that afternoon in the forest.
Three farmers with simple faces followed behind him, their expressions sorrowful.
"Sir, we're almost there. It's that village ahead, those are the villains!"
"Sir, please uphold justice for us!"
"The villains plundered our money and grain, and even abducted the village Women. If we don't get these back, our village will face famine during the New Year!"
"My poor little daughter—"
How could farmers lie? They are kind, simple. Their vision is so short that it only encompasses their small plot of land. They would fight for food. If there was even a slight possibility of recovering the grain, these three farmers would not lie.
Mo Yun thought the same. He saw their deeply lined faces, dark and aged, with an unshakeable smell of earth and the sour sweat emanating from their clothes. Their gazes were blank, their expressions seemingly pulled into a fixed and rigid form by life and the land.
They wouldn't lie.
But three sharp knives plunged into his lower back at the most crucial moment.
Intense stinging and burning, a poisoned blade.
The fierce poison burned his heart. Mo Yun felt the world spin, and the broken sword in his hand danced, but he couldn't feel himself swinging the sword. It was as if the sword was moving his hand, like a swift, soaring rapidly, appearing intermittently in his dim, darkening vision, bringing with it scattered blood.
More cold glints attacked, at his chest and abdomen, the poison continuously seeping in.
The earth.
Farmers don't lie, because they possess the same qualities as the earth.
The earth always supports people, it is firm and resilient.
But both of these perceptions were wrong.
Farmers can lie, they lie to survive. Moreover, they weren't farmers, but bandits disguised as farmers.
The earth doesn't always support people, nor is she always resilient and firm. Sometimes she is soft and greedy, like muddy ground slowly swallowing a person.
…
A gentle breeze blew, and the sunlight was warm.
Mo Yun looked up blankly. He didn't know how long he had been staring outside the door.
Simon had finished breakfast and was leisurely leaving, holding a copy of the "Heart Sutra". As he passed him, he let out a laugh whose meaning was unclear.
Mo Yun frowned, unresponsive, then lowered his head and turned back to his bedroom.
He suddenly felt a great sense of disorientation, followed by deep self-doubt.
Was coming to the Northern Lands really a good choice?
Everything about his past was negated here.
Martial arts, talent, aptitude, disposition, habits.
All these things that shaped the entity named Mo Yun ironically made him incompatible with the surrounding world.
He wasn't allowed to use his sword skills, playing the flute led to an accident, and the surprised looks and subtle mockery he received when his words and actions differed from Northern Land customs.
Sometimes resentment and pressure only need a slight push to completely burst.
He knew life was hard, but this was too hard.
So, how could he fit in?
Give up his stubbornness? Bend his back?
Would Mo Yun still be Mo Yun then?
…
Simon took a sip of Tieguanyin, then put down the Jun Kiln white porcelain cup in his hand.
He asked casually, "Does Quan Hongming's family have some unspoken difficulty, Benefactor Quan?"
Every family has its own troubles, which is true to some extent. Even a prominent family like Quan Manor has difficulties they prefer not to mention.
There were actually rumors in the capital that the eldest Young Master of Quan Manor had contracted a strange illness, which was why the Old Duke passed the position of Family Head to the second Young Miss.
Quan Suhuan, being straightforward, immediately asked, "How did This humble monk hear of this, Young Master?"
"It's being spread all over the streets and alleys. How could This humble monk not hear it?"
"I didn't expect a monastic like you to still care about rumors."
"Whether one is a monastic or not isn't important, and This humble monk certainly didn't bring this up to embarrass Benefactor," Simon lightly tapped the armrest of the small-leaf sandalwood with his finger, making a tapping sound, "Do you remember This humble monk mentioning that Benefactor would encounter a troublesome matter three months from now?"
"Is this matter related to Quan Manor's internal affairs?"
"Yes, This humble monk had initially predicted that Quan Manor would suffer financial loss in the Guangdong area, but the heavenly mechanism shifted. After the manager there was replaced, this financial calamity was averted."
Quan Suhuan had been enjoying her conversations with Simon these past few days and understood his character quite well. He always spoke his mind, completely unafraid of offending others, so she believed his words by eight or nine-tenths.
"Then may I ask what form this trouble has taken now?"
"This calamity has always been present, but ever since the two of us arrived, the situation has been pushed towards the worst possible outcome."
"Is there a way to resolve it?"
"Observe the changes. When the time comes, I will notify Benefactor to pay attention."
…
Ning Baiyi is a Jade Box disciple of Hundred Flowers Valley in Guangnan's White Deer Marsh.
Hundred Flowers Valley is renowned for its medical skills. Disciples of the valley, regardless of their status, are revered by people in the martial arts world, simply because they practice medicine to save lives and are unparalleled in benevolence and righteousness.
And Ning Baiyi's status was already that of a true inheritor, which, for her age, was quite remarkable.
Among the younger generation of the righteous martial arts world, she was also highly ranked, but she had little fame due to her reserved nature and dislike of causing trouble.
People from Quan Manor went to Hundred Flowers Valley to seek medical treatment, and eventually, the Valley Master dispatched Ning Baiyi to the capital to treat the illness.
The one to be treated was naturally the eldest Young Master of Quan Manor, as rumored in the streets, who was once the successor as Family Head, Quan Suhuan's elder brother.
This person had a rebellious nature but possessed extraordinary intelligence. He was once believed to be capable of leading Quan Manor to new heights, ensuring that its countless misty towers and pavilions would endure for centuries.
However, an accident occurred when this eldest Young Master unfortunately fell from his horse during an outing, resulting in a soul-loss syndrome.
For some reason, this eldest Young Master's symptoms only began to be taken seriously two years ago.
By then, the Old Duke had already passed away with the changing fortunes of the dynasty. Quan Suhuan remembered having such an elder brother and went to seek medical treatment again, but unexpectedly, the situation had already changed.
The eldest Young Master Quan Hongming's condition had worsened into a malevolent plague, akin to a curse.
Originally a frail body, it had inexplicably become incredibly strong. His fingernails were thick and sharp, capable of breaking stone and piercing metal with ease. A faint black aura lingered on his face, a sign of ill omen.
This alone would have been fine; he was, after all, a comatose patient with no consciousness. However, Quan Hongming would inexplicably wander at night, in a state between dream and wakefulness, becoming violently agitated and killing countless people.
After the first servant died, the people of Quan Manor immediately imprisoned Quan Hongming and sent him to Daxiangguo Temple for high monks to pray for him and exorcise the evil.
Another year passed, and his condition showed no improvement.
Ning Baiyi was Quan Manor's last hope for this eldest Young Master.
If she succeeded, Quan Manor would have one more person to care for; if she failed, it would simply be one more funeral.
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